


this must be the place

by aegyofairy



Series: naive melody [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, But just a little, Canon Timeline, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Getting Back Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, and he drinks, billy is a bit of a bad boy but honestly he just starts fights to get the shit kicked out of him, but steve kind of has a thing for him anyways because he's real, nancy is the best friend anyone could ask for, the chapters will switch from 84 to 88
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 15:44:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15609615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aegyofairy/pseuds/aegyofairy
Summary: it’s been nearly three years and it’s still all he can think about.he’ll catch himself daydreaming. when his work day is long or on the drive home, when he wakes up in the morning to a silent apartment, if he can’t sleep or lets his thoughts spin out of control.he'll remember the taste of vodka punch mixing with the cigarette he had shared with billy that night at tina’s halloween party. the night steve had first met him. the night that had, looking back, changed his life.





	this must be the place

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to visit my tumblr [spacecaced](https://spacecaced.tumblr.com) or drop something in my [ask](https://spacecaced.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> i highly suggest that you take the time to listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o9gK2fOq4MY) song because it is important for the overall mood of the story as it progresses. 
> 
> and then there's [these](https://spacecaced.tumblr.com/post/176638474389/domestic-harringrove-playlist-this-must-be-the) companion playlists.
> 
> enjoy!

**October 1984, then –**

 

It’s Tina’s Halloween party and everyone is fucked.

Steve has two drinks in hand – the vodka pomegranate punch concoction sloshing as he pushes through the mass of people all dancing or milling around – one of the drinks is his and the others is Nancy’s, if he ever finds her in this mess.

Everything’s a little dark but he doesn’t have a free hand to take his sunglasses off. At least he looks somewhat cool, even if Nancy isn’t there to complete his look.

“Shouldn’t I be getting her drinks?” Jonathan, right at his shoulder now, says over the music and Steve grins.

He pushes the drink into his friends’ hand, sweeps his sunglasses off in the same movement, the party bursts into more vivid color, and Steve looks less like a douche wearing sunglasses indoors; costume or not.

“Wasn’t sure you were even coming, thought you were too cool to hang with us at a lame party.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. Now there’s two sets of eyes scanning the crowd for Nancy but there’s still no sign of her. She’s always with Barb but Steve doesn’t see her either.

The music is just a little too loud and the more people brush past the two of them, standing sort of in the way, the higher the chances are that Steve is going to end up wearing the drink in his hands rather than enjoying it.

“We should split up,” Steve says, eyeing the backyard, “better chances of finding her.”

Jonathan raises the cup, “May the best man win.”

“We both did, man.”

Jonathan’s lopsided half smile mirrors Steve’s grin before he turns away and makes his way through the crowd, disappearing into the backyard which the party has spilled into by this point.

Things with him and Nancy never really did make sense, they were two kids from similar backgrounds trying to follow the same story that their parents had. They probably would have made a nice go of it too but that wasn’t what real happiness would have been for either of them. So sure, Steve might not “have the girl” but he’s got two best friends – not like Carol and Tommy who liked to start shit and fuck around with people’s lives – but honest to goodness _friends_ for the first time in a real long while.

It’s worth it, it really is.

But he also can’t deny the loneliness he feels, only further reminded of being single as he wanders through the party in a quest for Nancy. There are countless people hooking up or couples sneaking off to find a dark corner to make out in. By the time Steve has made a full lap around the inside of the house, the red solo cup in his hand is empty and he’s got a buzz working.

He chucks the empty cup in an overflowing garbage bag on his way into the kitchen, carefully avoiding several incredibly drunk girls all making eyes at him and finds himself another cup. At this point he’s sure Jonathan has found Nancy, probably out by the pool with Barb, so he takes his new cup of poison and means to go out to the backyard.

But he’s stopped halfway to the sliding door by a loud voice shouting _hey harrington!_ that makes him cringe and swivel around to face Tommy, excitedly stalking up to him with another guy leading the charge.

“Guess who just beat your record.” Tommy jeers, what a fucking tool.

But Steve isn’t even looking at Tommy’s weaselly face, no, he’s looking at the guy next to him.

Even without an introduction Steve has a good guess that the shirtless guy dipped in leather is Billy Hargrove. Ever since he arrived in Hawkins no less than a week previously there were rumors circling about him. Steve hadn’t bought into any of it or really cared.

But now that he’s face-to-face with the guy, with Shout at the Devil blaring obnoxiously from the speakers in the room, Steve’s sure that Billy is everything those rumors promised.

“That so?” He asks, the taste of vodka heavy on his tongue, noting the challenge in Billy’s eyes.

There isn’t much space between them to begin with, but Billy closes it even further, stepping close and eyeing Steve like those drunk girls had earlier, but more predatory than anything, not playful. “Sure is, if you’re not careful there’s gonna be a new King around here.”

Billy’s voice is a low rumble, a purr almost, and Steve grins, “Oh, I don’t think so, hold my drink.”

There’s a moment where Billy looks completely puzzled, but he recovers quickly to Steve’s surprise – and delight – and just goes with it as Steve shoves his drink into his hand and pushes past him expecting Billy to follow.

He does, but not without a bit of a small gathering of party-goers who are ready to either witness a dethroning so to speak or a subsequent fight.

Tommy acts as the dumbass officiator and Steve, he isn’t even here to take it too seriously but there’s something about Billy watching him with that smirk of his that has the last remaining functioning brain cells of Steve’s glitching.

He’s psyching himself up – Billy standing to the side in an odd calm sort of way despite being reduced to being a human cup-holder – when he wets his bottom lip and tastes the lingering vodka there and remembers that the contents of his stomach are a cup and a half of the pomegranate punch that was more vodka than punch, and exactly three pieces of pepperoni that he’d picked off of Nancy’s pizza before they arrived.

All in all, it’s not the best sign.

Billy’s eyes are still on him as he shrugs out of his blazer, dropping it on the lawn, Steve almost forgets this is a two-person activity, but then Billy’s closer, so close Steve can smell his cologne. “Need help, princess?”

Steve notices that Tommy’s holding his drink now and there’s no way in hell he trusts him to not spit in it. Which is funny, the small part of him that realizes he trusts Billy more than he trusts his one-time best friend.

Funny how things change.

He doesn’t even flinch at the nickname, the playful tease that Billy is so good at dishing out, “Just hold my legs, _babe_.”

Billy’s eyes widen, Steve’s voice low enough that the crowd doesn’t hear, and he catches a glimmer of a real smile before he’s getting down to business.

Once he’s up, he remembers what a bad fucking idea this is. His palms are sweaty, and the crowd is hollering and cheering. Billy’s hands are firm on him, reassuring in an odd way, and the taste of shitty beer flooding his mouth almost makes him gag at the first taste.

The crowds chanting picks up and Steve knows he’s close to his old record, possibly close enough to Billy’s, but the taste is flooding his mouth, and everything is too hot, and his stomach is churning so he taps out.

He’s barely got his feet on the ground, stumbling a little, before he’s throwing up the contents of his stomach, narrowly missing Billy’s dark black boots. He waits for the laughter to start or for Billy to rub it in, but instead he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still crouched over as the dizziness fades, and looks up to see the crowd mostly dispersed. Billy glares at the few remaining stragglers till they leave too.

“Shit,” Steve catches his breath, the burn of alcohol still heavy and his stomach still queasy, “– guess this means you win.”

“Guess so.” Billy agrees, watching Steve closely, like he’s taking him apart with just that look of his. “You know, you’re not what I was expecting Harrington.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Billy laughs then, startling Steve as he straightens up from his crouched position, knowing he isn’t going to get dizzy again and throw up, “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

He looks up at Billy, waiting for the other shoe to drop and the guy in front of him to say something that proves all those rumors are true, that all he’s looking for is a good fight or good drinks. He hears Sara Connors voice in the back of his head, _I heard they had to move here because he beat a kid so bad he got expelled and no other school wanted to take him_.

But Billy just winks, claps him on the shoulder, and saunters back into the house.

The music from the house is thumping so loud Steve can make out the beat of Girls on Film and the words make him think of Jonathan. Of Jonathan and Nancy, who he’s supposed to be looking for, _shit_.

He finds them in the middle of the substitute dance floor that the living room has become, dancing to the loud thumping beat of some big hair band playing, everyone’s spirits lifted. Nancy waves him over and Steve feels like shit, but he waves her off with a smile and nods in the direction of the kitchen.

She takes that as a good enough answer and goes back to being silly with Jonathan and Barb.

Steve does end up in the kitchen, grabbing his third cup of the night now that his stomach has stopped churning and the buzz from the beer is turning into a full on high at this point, what’s one more drink?

When he comes back into the main room he notices how damn hot it is from all the dancing, he feels like he’s burning under all his layers and grows more uncomfortable with the seconds passing so he ducks outside into the backyard where there are significantly fewer people. No one’s in the pool because it’s chilly out and catching a cold is just about the last thing on anyone’s to-do list.

He looks around, for who he’s not sure, until he comes across the familiar outline of Billy leaning against the back porch with a girl – Susan or Sharon something – trying her best to chat him up, bright red lipstick and all. Billy’s smile is different from the easygoing one earlier, more forced; all bravado and cocksure attitude.

It’s so fake, Steve knows, but he stands back and sips his drink and watches it all play out. He’s sure Billy is either about to give in and let the girl drag him off somewhere or he’s about to turn her down, Steve’s leaning towards the former when Billy says something, and the girl slaps him across the face, _hard_.

Steve winces like he’s the one who just got hit, the slap is even audible from where Steve’s standing.

The girl – Susan or Sharon – stomps away with a hurt expression and fire in her eyes. Steve makes a note to never accidentally piss her off. As soon as she passes by him Steve catches Billy looking in his direction, or more accurately staring straight at him with a questioning look and a tilt of his head.

Steve’s feet move not so much because he wants them to but because he can’t seem to differentiate between good and bad decisions right now apparently. Not until he’s standing beside Billy, drink in hand, wondering how this guy looks so comfortable completely shirtless in the night air.

The music is so loud indoors that Steve can vaguely make out something by Def Leppard, but he can’t remember the name of the song, it’s not really his style, while he drinks, and Billy watches him for a few slow beats. Awfully attentive.

There isn’t any threat in his relaxed stance though and Steve doesn’t feel overly concerned at the way he easily makes himself just as comfortable standing beside Billy. Neither of them says anything for a while, enjoying the music that drifts out from the open sliding door, dull as it carries into the night.

“You smoke, Harrington?” Billy asks, breaking the silence with a head tilt and a little questioning stare.

His eyes are bright under the night sky and even though Steve hasn’t felt that itch to smoke in a long time, he still finds himself saying, “Sure.”

There’s nothing but a clear line of trees in sight and the faded sound of music. Steve sets his red solo cup down on the edge of the railing as Billy pulls out a rumpled pack of smokes from his jacket pocket. He knocks two cigarettes out and Steve takes the offered one.

He fiddles with the cig, holding it between his fingers with ease like an old friend, while Billy takes out a lighter.

Billy tucks his own between the seam of his lips and flicks the lighter until it catches, the flame dancing as he shields it from the low breeze, holding it at the end of the cigarette and letting it work its magic before passing the lighter over to Steve who does the same.

Steve hasn’t felt the need to smoke in a while, but when he brings it to his lips and takes a puff he remembers how much it relaxes him. He’s officially past the tipping point of ‘slightly buzzed’ and into the swing of ‘full on drunk’ but he has reasonably good company.

Together they lean against the railing, Billy finding new and creative ways to blow out the cigarette smoke.

Steve watches him tilt his head back, blowing out a steady stream into the night sky. Billy stays like that for a while too, gazing up at the vast openness and the sparkling lights of distant stars. Steve’s never seen someone look up at the sky so much, not in a place like Hawkins where the sky goes on uninterrupted by tall buildings or anything eventful.

“Didn’t take you for a stargazer.” Steve says once his cigarette’s almost gone and all that’s left in his solo cup is a small sliver of pinkish residue from the vodka combination.

Billy laughs, looking handsome – and alright maybe Steve sort of sees the appeal that these girls around town are all chittering about – with his bright smile and suddenly soft look, shrugging his shoulders, “You don’t see the sky like this where I’m from.”

The openness of those words steals the next thoughts right from Steve’s head.  

Billy continues to stare and stare like the sky might just swallow him up right now, like maybe he wants it to and Steve? Steve stubs out his cigarette in the red solo cup and watches Billy watching the stars. It’s a mystery, why he’s so comfortable with a guy like Billy Hargrove. Maybe it’s the contents of his stomach being more alcohol and bad decisions, but Steve doubts it.

Maybe it has something to do with the intriguing presence of the guy – Steve can’t deny that Billy puts out an aura like catnip – or it could be the fact that Steve, who can’t help feeling an odd sense of loneliness, feels a little less lonely standing here with the cool night breeze brushing through his hair and the thumping of music traveling from the house through the floor all the way to his feet and up his spine.

Billy starts humming a tune, something quiet and soft, out of character for a guy dressed in head to toe leather with his shirt missing. Steve doesn’t catch it at first but then he hears the lyrics from inside the house, drifting out to join them.

It’s a melancholy tune, one Steve hasn’t heard in a while, a slow song for all the couples to dance to while Steve and Billy make themselves at home right here, immovable.

At first glance, Billy Hargrove doesn’t seem like the type to know this song at all, but he’s full of surprises.

The humming continues flowing steadily with the lyrics, before Steve finds a point he knows with good enough familiarity to not completely butcher the line as he sings, “ _Feet on the ground, head in the sky. It’s okay, I know nothing’s wrong, nothing_ …” his voice only cracks _once_ and personally he blames that on the lingering effects of the cigarette more than his own singing abilities.

But the reward of Billy looking at him, lips parted like he wants to say something, as Steve grins from ear to ear a little – or a lot – drunk at this point, is worth it.

“Not bad, Harrington.”

He thinks he’s imaging the note of subtle praise in Billy’s words, but there’s not a trace of malice or laughter, just those few small words and Steve’s already so mixed up about it. His head is fuzzy, and his body is so warm, same as earlier in a room full of strangers and music too loud to hear his thoughts, but the warmth this time is from the drinks and Billy Hargrove’s deep stare.

It dawns on him then – as he boldly plucks Billy’s loosely held cigarette from his fingers and only gets an amused glance in return – that he feels effortlessly comfortable in this space they’ve made for themselves, that all those rumors floating around school carried like juicy bits of gossip with no consideration for the person, are just that: _rumors_.

Steve decides, with vodka and cigarettes on his tongue, that he wants to know more about Billy – about the guy who knows the lyrics to slow sad tunes and likes staring up at the sky – he wants to know as much as he can because sharing this night isn’t enough for him and he’s smart enough to know it.


End file.
